


Chrysalis

by romanticalgirl



Category: Kings (TV 2009)
Genre: Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Jack is sentenced to a living death. David has a sign from God.(see notes at the end re: character death. Major character in the series, not necessarily in this story.)





	Chrysalis

He has no problem fucking her. 

He puts her on her knees and presses his hand to the back of her neck and holds her down as he does it, driving into her with his eyes closed, and tears darkening his eyelashes. Another innocent he’s corrupted. No, another his father has corrupted, tarnished with the brush he’s painted Jack with since the day he was born. 

She’s pregnant quickly, and Jack’s sure that his father is annoyed that Jack doesn’t have to keep suffering that particular torture. As soon as she tests positive, she’s rushed out of the room and, no doubt, given the royal treatment. Or the opposite if Jack’s the example of that.

He’s actually relieved for her. She’s probably being treated now to the like she thought she’d have with him.

Jack stays there, kept in his cocoon, until the baby’s born. He hears its cry from a distance, and he leans on the door with his eyes closed and pictures a red face and streaks of tears. He wonders idly if it resembles him at all

No one comes to his door to tell him he’s a father. No one comes to tell him anything. Even the guard who brings the meals says nothing. 

One night, months later, he’s lying on his bed staring at the ceiling, seeing the same nothing he sees every night, every day. The key turns in the lock and he turns his head, watching the knob move and the door push open, not making a sound.

His mother is standing there, dressed as impeccably as always. Her eyes have the same coldness they had when she faced him in the court. She was Jack’s champion but, in the time he’s had to think, he realized that every gift he acquired, every boon she had her father grant him required his sacrifice, his humility, his shame. 

Perhaps she was never a mother. Perhaps always a queen.

“His name is Isaac.”

“I assumed it was a son,” Jack turns his eyes upward again. The ceiling is just as silent as God has always been. “Since she wasn’t shoved back in here like a brood mare.”

“He shows no signs of your sister’s illness.”

There’s a silence and he assumes she thinks he’s saying his thanks to a merciful God. Instead he hears the joy in her voice. “Did you ever love me?”

She starts, and when he looks at her, her lips are slightly parted, surprised. “Of course, Jack. You’re my son.”

“I was your son. Perhaps that was my problem. He looked at me and saw you, saw me as weak.”:

“Your father has never seen me as weak, and would not do so you in comparison.” She walks further into the room. He doesn’t bother watching her. If he is to die, his father will be the one to put the gun to his head. He knows that Silas will allow him that much. Not for Jack’s dignity, but for the opportunity -- the possibility -- that maybe Jack will give in, bow down, one more time. “Against counsel, your sister has returned from her time away.”

“Well, now there is a full house who wish me dead. Pity you can’t marry her bastard to mine. We were unwed after all. Though I imagine God would look down on Silas populating his kingdom with incestuous bastards. Or did my dear sister have a boy? Then I fear Silas will have to hope that ‘like father like son’ skips a generation, just as it did with me..”

“You talk just to hear your voice?”

“I talk because either I’ll go mad or I’ve already gone mad. Either way I don’t think it really matters.” He doesn’t move as she perches on the bed next to him. “Go away, your highness.”

She reaches out and brushes his shoulder. Before she can do more, he has her wrist in his hand, tight as a vise, and the sound of gun safeties being released fills the room. Jack smirks and drops her hand, letting it fall where there’s no chance of it touching him. 

“What do you think it would take to get them to shoot? I’m trained in combat. I know of at least five ways I could kill you just with my bare hands. And yet still they don’t put a bullet in me. How Silas must have them cowed.”

“You would do well to remember your place, Jack.”

“This is my place, Rose. My gilded cage. Survey my kingdom in all its glory. View the crown of thorns that sits on my head.” Jack laughs and tilts his head back, closing his eyes. “You have your new heir. I don’t care for any child, mine or otherwise. I have no need for them and am not wanted even if I did. It’s quite interesting in retrospect that what I wanted has never been what I could have, and even when it was close, it was just out of my grasp. You’ll have to ask Silas what it means that God made me as I am, and yet that was the thing Silas hated most about me.”

“Evil in your blood and bones is not of God.”

“My blood and bones had very little to do with what I did, Rose.”

“You will show me respect,” she snaps.

“Will I?” Jack purses his lips. “No. No, I don’t think I will. Take your joys of being a grandparent with you and leave me alone. Mine is a kingdom of one. There is no room for an adoring public.”

**

He’s back on the bed staring at the ceiling when he hears it. It’s faint and sounds far away, but then the sealed window opens. Jack rolls off the bed and ducks down on the opposite side of the mattress, looking around for something he can use as a weapon. He hears feet on the ground, moving across the carpet slowly. One sound might bring the guards in. 

“Jack.”

Jack frowns then his eyebrows lift sharply. He lifts his head over the mattress and David is standing there, burnished gold in the light from the bedside lamp. “You’re in the wrong room. Michelle is the next floor down.”

“I’m not looking for her. I’m looking for you.”

“Ah.” Jack nods. “Here to do your king’s bidding? I’d hoped you’d figured him out by now. He’s not the benevolent ruler he pretends to be, not kind and forgiving. At least not to everyone. No. Those who betray him… Well, they’re given a punishment that fits a crime. Not necessarily the one they’ve been arrested for.”

David tilts his head, looking Jack over. “I deserted your father. I told him I would help him get his throne back from your uncle and then I would leave. I have no more use for Silas -- his ways or his rule.”

“Me, you mean. Not my uncle.”

“That remains to be seen.” David walks to the desk and leans against it. He crosses his arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles. His gaze never leaves Jack, though it’s assessing, not wary. “When we first thought Silas was dead and you took his seat, do you remember what you said? What you did?”

Jack nods jerkily. The memory is etched in his brain. It was his moment to turn everything around, to be the person Joseph might have wanted him to be. To be the person that could be with Joseph. “I said we were brothers. I said we would work together to find peace.”

“Did you mean it?”

“My uncle swore he would get me the crown. He had every intention of me wearing it the way he wished. I didn’t. I lost men.” Jack swallows hard. “My men. My father and mother both wanted me to accept responsibility for that. No matter that I would have died in their place. They didn’t care about the dead, and my uncle wanted to keep the war going so more and more men could die.” 

“And you?”

“I wanted people to stop dying. I wanted people to…” Clearing his throat, Jack looks up at the ceiling. “All I ever wanted to do was live. Really live. I wanted everyone to have that chance.”

“Because of your… Friend?”

“Lover.”

David is silent for a moment, and Jack waits. He’s tired of lying and either the truth will save him or destroy him. Either way it would be better than this half-life. Finally David nods. “And the rest? Are we brothers?”

Jack’s gaze snaps back to David. “I imagine that’s up to you. You’re the free man. I’m nothing but a hostage, a prisoner with no chance of parole. My treason is far worse than your blood brother’s ever was. This is my prison. My coffin. It would be wisest of you to be glad we have no true bond.”

“I ask again, Jack. Are we brothers?” David says each word slowly to emphasize it. “They say I am the next chosen of God to be king. I will not fight Silas unless he brings the war to me, but I will need men by my side. Men I can trust. Men I do trust.”

“You know the things I’ve done. The things I’m capable of.”

“I know that you stood up to your father in that courtroom to save my life. I know you did your best to bring down the man whose respect you craved more than anything. I _believe_ that what is right will come just as easily to you. Easier. I believe the signs that led me here.” David stands straight and walks over to Jack, staring him straight in the eye. “Tell me, Jack Benjamin, former Prince and almost King of Shiloh. Are you my brother?”

Jack doesn’t speak for a long time before extending his hand to David. They grasp forearms and hold each other’s gazes. Finally Jack nods. “I am.”

**

They leave for Gath that night. Jack takes nothing with him but a bag of his clothes. When they reach the ground, David looks at him for a long moment then pulls a his sidearm. He carefully turns it around, handing it to Jack butt-first. It’s aimed at David’s heart. 

For a moment Jack wonders. He will never be king. God had shown him by not showing him, and Silas - whatever God might think of him and his ways - is the chosen one. And David after him. Jack takes the gun and thrusts it into the waistband of his pants, lacking anywhere else to put it. 

“Lead on, my king.”

David shakes his head. “Brother. And only that.”

Jack nods and lets David lead them. There is a jeep inside the driveway of the palace, Shiloh plates and insignia. Jack pulls up at a dead stop and glances at David. He reaches back for his weapon, convinced he’s walked into a trap. Boyden and Klotz are standing in the small guardhouse, looking everywhere but at David. 

“You know,” Boyden says slowly, and Jack knows it’s clearly for his benefit. He probably doubts Jack knows he exists. Jack does, if only for the reason that both he and Klotz had wrestled him through the gates into the house while he was in a drugged or drunken stupor more than once. He remembers, after one particularly bad night, he’d sent them a cake. “It’s damned quiet tonight.”

“It really is,” Klotz agrees. He reaches out and tosses a set of keys on the ground. “Hasn’t been this quiet in ages.”

David smiles and Jack takes his hand off the gun. He reaches down and picks up the keys, walking over and opening the rear door for David, smooth as any chauffeur. David’s smile turns to a smirk and he walks around, sliding into the passenger seat. Jack shrugs and shuts the door, climbing behind the wheel.

Boyden comes over to the car and Jack rolls down the window. His dark eyes meet Jack’s as he pushes a hat onto Jack’s head.. “Drive careful, your highness. There may be a lot of pitfalls on the road. I know we’d all hate to see something happen to you.”

“As far as threats go, Boyden.” Jack can’t help the twinge of satisfaction that comes from Boyden’s clear surprise at being addressed by name. “It would be much more effective if I actually cared what happened to me. Or believed that you did.”

Klotz moves closer so he’s looking at Jack over Boyden’s shoulder. “You’re right. We don’t care what happens to you.” He nods toward David. “He’s a different story.”

“Yes. And I’m just a footnote.” Jack’s smile even _feels_ bitter. “No matter what anyone might believe, I’ve been aware of that for a long time.”

**

They ride in silence for a long time. Once they near the border, they abandon the jeep and creep into the woods. The borders are patrolled still, though there’s a semblance of peace between the two countries. Still, David seems to knows how to navigate his way through, both of them sliding down a hill in a somewhat controlled descent as they cross into Gath territory. 

They climb higher to an encampment hidden in the crags of the mountains. It’s a beautiful place, even in the dark, and it offers a view of the border as well as vantage point on the city itself. There’s a cave with a bedroll and David’s pack, a selection of food, and the remnants of a fire. 

“We’ll stay here tonight,” David says quietly, sinking down onto the ground and slumping against the wall of the cave. “We’ll be safe.”

“Why here? I would think they’d have embraced you with open arms.”

“I’m not the enemy, but I’m not their favorite son. More a tentative ally. They’re afraid if I’m here, Silas will come looking. I don’t imagine that will be better with you here as well.”

“And yet you’ve brought me here.”

“ _I_ need an ally. Silas has no reason not to fight now, and likely there will be war.”

“Silas _doesn’t_ fight. He sends people to die in his name. If you hadn’t saved me so long ago, he wouldn’t have either. Michelle is his golden child. I’m his cannon fodder.” Jack sits and leans against the wall opposite David. “I have no power with him. The best you can hope for is that he’ll come for me with the intent of actually killing me this time. Which, to be fair, would be better than my previous punishment.”

“Which was?”

“Provide an heir to the throne. One he could raise to be a true son, a fitting man to follow the great Silas.” Jack laughs. “I’ve had sex with women. Many times. Occasionally for more than just show. But locked in a bedroom with nothing to do _but_ have sex with one woman? One who, god help her, loved me? Death would have been easier.”

“She wasn’t there when I came for you.”

“She was granted a reprieve from me. Apparently hiring a wet nurse would require explaining where a baby came from. Especially since it would have been impossible to pass them off as twins.”

“Twins?”

Jack picks up a stick near the fire remnants and draws on the ground with the burnt end. “Michelle’s baby was too old by that time. Several months old. Twins running in the family could explain there being two. Twins who were obviously months apart…”

“What baby?”

“I just explained.”

“No,” David snaps. “Michelle’s baby.”

Jack frowns and then smiles. It’s rough and wicked and he throws his head back and laughs, nearly choking on the sound. “You didn’t know.”

“Know _what_?”

“She was sent away. Supposedly for supporting her brother in some fashion. She was supposed to stay gone, stripped of her name and power. Instead she returned with child in tow. Her name is Tamar, from what I understand. I’ve not seen her, though I hear they keep her from Silas as much as possible, so I imagine she looks much like her father.”

“She had my child.” David looks lost, and Jack can almost feel sympathy. Or what he thinks is sympathy. He’s not sure what feelings exist in him anymore. “She didn’t tell me.”

“What would you have done if she had?” Jack draws a question mark in the dirt of the cave. “Stayed? Stayed with her? Silas would have either required you to stand beside him or have had you killed. I don’t know which he would have chosen given everything that came before.”

“You haven’t seen her.”

“Save any hallucinations I may have had, I’ve not seen anyone but you, my darling bride, a few guards, and my mother in seventeen months. Certainly not your child, and most definitely not my own.” Jack tosses the stick and shoves his back deeper into the cave, stretching out and using it as a pillow. “Do you actually have a plan?”

“What?” David looks at him, his eyes coming from somewhere far away. 

“A plan. Beyond we stay here tonight? For the future? To handle Silas? There’s a remote possibility that he will wonder where I’ve gone. Not that I suspect he’ll think of you.”

“There will be a body.”

Jack stills, something in David’s voice reminding Jack that David has followed Silas loyally, and the last Jack had seen of him, he’d been standing by his father’s side. Jack’s body here would start another war. Jack’s body would solve so many problems for Silas.

“There will be a skirmish at the border. Your body will be found, burned beyond recognition. There were signs of a struggle in your room. A kidnapping gone wrong. Or, perhaps, Silas’s own men doing the dirty work.”

“So you do mean to kill me. An eye for an eye? A brother for a brother?”

“We already have the body. I _will not_ harm you, Jack. Let Silas threaten and kill. I am not that man.”

Jack sighs and settles back against his back more firmly. “So you _do_ have a plan.”

“No,” David admits. “But I’m getting there.”

**

He is there by David’s grace. It is clear in the way the other men look at him. Who he is, _what_ he is and stands for to them, is a thing he will never be able to erase. He has never seen Silas in himself - a early warning he should have heeded? Perhaps - but he knows they see it. 

There are so many things in life that would be funny if Jack had the strength to laugh.

His experience, however, is something they learn they have to respect. He turns them into an Army. Not just men in uniform behind tanks. They all know now that the Goliaths are not indestructible, and they know that Shiloh has men who will hide and fight and risk crossing a no-man’s land to fight, to rescue, to die. 

David believes in white flags. Jack knows the only time they might actually work is when they’re soaked in blood. David should know that. Does know that. Jack thinks he just has to believe it’s any way but that.

Jack uses the skills he learned in Silas’s army. He trains them like he trained his men. He leads them like he led his men. He teaches them not to rely on air support. To be sneaky and sharp. To rely on no one but the man beside him and the man beside him. They function as one. They breathe as one. 

David watches, and Jack isn’t sure what he thinks. Neither of them want war, and yet Jack is preparing for it, Jack is _good_ at it. It goes against what he had said in the throne room, what he had promised David, and yet David is there. He doesn’t say a word to stop him, and only spends time complimenting him and his men. 

One night Jack returns to the small hut they share, a command post as well as where they sleep. David is lying on his cot, staring at the canvas ceiling. There’s something resigned in David’s voice when he speaks. “Silas’s troops are massing for an attack.”

“The southern border?”

“As we expected.”

“We expected it before this.” Jack sits on his cot and runs his hands through his hair. It’s longer than it should be, longer than he likes it, but it’s the least of his concerns. “There are other rumors.”

“Mm. God has forsaken Silas and gives him no signs.” David nods. 

“And you? What has God given you? Or are we all forsaken?”

David flips a coin in the air and Jack catches it. They symbols on it show it predates the creation of Shiloh, of Silas’s _imperfect_ perfect world. “I ask him to show me what to do and he simply tells me there will be twelve. In unity there will be twelve.”

“And he says nothing to Silas. Is this true?”

“Silas has consulted one of the women of Endor.”

Jack sucks in a breath. The women of Endor are ghost stories, not spoken of except in whispers They are the keepers of the futures and the tellers of lies. Their names are forbidden from Shiloh, and the answers they offer are as likely to end in death as they are in success. 

“Your men will be ready?”

Jack scrubs his face with both hands before he meets David’s eyes. He holds the coin between them, a symbol though Jack does not pretend to know of what. “They will.”

**

The fighting is sharp and swift and terrifying. This is no standstill at the front lines. This is no hiding behind tanks. This is war. Blood and dirt and red mud roiling around them in the rain. It is guns and knives and death. So much death. 

Jack stands there, listening to the report of tanks and guns, the tracers that light up the sky. A headache burns behind his eyes, and his shoulders feel the weight of expectation and regret. 

David comes up behind him and puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “We’ve won.”

“No. The bullets are still screaming.”

“Come.” David grasps Jack’s arm and leads him from the front of the tent to the side, slipping out another door and guiding him behind row after row of tents. He can hear the hurt and the dying in the med tent, can hear the silence of the dead. David says it is over, but Jack can still hear them screaming.

David manhandles Jack into another tent that looks no different than the one before, save this one has a battery powered television. The signal is weak, the screen fuzzy with static. Silas is standing at a podium, hands gripping the sides. Jack has not seen him in years now. He wonders what his father would think of the stripes and medals Jack now wears. Treason, no doubt.

“Once God looked down on me with favor.”

Jack sags. “The butterflies again.”

“Wait.” David looks as if he has a secret and, no doubt, he does. Jack doesn’t pretend to know what the voice of God tells his chosen ones. 

Silas’s speech goes on, a swarm of butterflies, a living crown. Jack tunes it out until Silas’s voice changes, seems to harden yet weaken all at once. 

“Years ago now, it happened again, but not to me. I was afraid. For myself, for this kingdom, for the people of Shiloh. This was the mission set forth for me by God himself. How could I believe that another was to take my place. I was _chosen_.” He clears his throat and Jack looks at David. He doesn’t need to imagine the crown on his head. It’s as if Silas’s words have conjured the vision in Jack’s mind’s eye.

“But God has not spoken for some time. The death of Ephram and so many others in the wake of my believed assasination brought God’s voice to me and he bade me do his will. But I was stubborn. What I wanted to believe and what was true were different. Who I was and who God called were not the same.”

David is staring at the screen, looking at Silas as if they’re face to face. Like David is _seeing_ Silas and, perhaps, Silas is seeing him too.

“My son Johnathan - Jack - is gone. Dead by his own hand and repelled by God. His son, innocent of his father’s crimes, stands beside me as my heir.” 

Jack isn’t surprised by Silas’s version of his death. He’d have been more surprised if Silas had left him any dignity. Instead his eyes dart to the small boy by Silas’s side. He is no more than three, so serious in his simple suit. Jack expects to feel something. He thinks he should. But he’s been that little boy, and he knows that the sympathy that will be needed is for later. There’s nothing Jack could do now - for the boy or for himself. 

“I asked God for an answer.”

The entire camp goes silent, and Silas’s words seem to echo. There are no more bullets, as though an armistice has already been reached. 

“And was given none.”

A collective gasp goes up in the audience gathered around the palace, and the one in the tent seems no louder.

“God had told me to pull David to my side as I stepped down, and to lift him up to my place. I refused. I stood where I was and did nothing. And now, when God would not answer me, when we entered this war and fought, I needed a sign. And instead I took an omen.”

There’s another intake of breath and Jack can’t tell where it comes from. It may possibly even be from himself, though the only surprise of this is Silas’s admitting any of it.

“The witch of Endor told me that I was right to continue this battle. She told me that I was to keep my place as your king. She assured me that my might was right in all things. But only God is right in all things. And I have sinned against my God.”

It’s not a gunshot this time, nothing so loud as a man with a hue and cry. It is Silas’s own knife slitting across his throat, spilling blood on the podium. He holds up his crown as blood rushes down. His voice gurgles with red liquid. 

“King David.”

**

The fog is a pall, thick as mourning. The guns are silent. The tanks no longer rumble. The only sound as they drive through Gilboa is the sound of their own jeep. Even the people that line the roads are silent. David stands in the front seat, leaning back against the bar, watching as the land goes by, as they pass farms and houses then business and gathering places. 

Even Shiloh is as silent as death, heavy with expectation. Jack drives without a word, staring straight ahead.

The gates of the palace open and Klotz and Boyden stand there. Jack can see Thomasina beside the door. He glances up and can see Rose at the window. The two guards salute as they roll through, heading toward the palace. David thanks them with a smile and then turns resolutely forward.

“Thomasina is loyal to the royal family.” Jack says softly. He’s not sure why. David knows how everything is, even without his advice. “I do not know who she believes that is anymore.”

David nods. “Are we still brothers, Jack?”

“In all but blood, but bathed in blood together.”

“Then all will be well.” 

Jack snorts a derisive laugh, but pulls the jeep to a stop, climbing out. The last words Thomasina said to him ring in his head and it takes a fair amount of strength not to want to hate her. 

_It’s not so hard. Just close your eyes and dream of someone who’s dead_

She looks at him with blank eyes. David glances from one of them to the other before he swings out of the jeep himself. “Thomasina.”

“Mr. Shepherd.”

“Is Rose here?”

“Of course. This way.” She turns and then stops, something pained in her eyes this time when she looks at Jack. “Ghosts are not welcome in this house.”

David opens his mouth, but Jack shakes his head jerkily. “This whole house is Silas’s ghost, and I have no intention of letting him haunt me.”

He walks away, moving along a stone path through one of the archways to the garden. The edges are thick with rose bushes - a tribute to his mother, another beautiful thing with thorns. He walks past them to the furthest edge, moving in to follow the winding circular path. He used to hide here when he was young, whenever he would get spotted in the throne room and be hurried and ushered out by either Thomasina or one of the royal guard. 

There’s a boy in the center sitting on a concrete bench. He’s quiet and solemn, dark eyes looking up at Jack. “You look like papa. Young papa.” He tilts his head, still looking at Jack. “Papa’s dead.” He slices a finger across his neck as if cutting his throat. 

“Your name is Isaac?” Jack doesn’t know if he remembers or if he’s never forgotten. The boy nods and Jack swallows hard. “And what’s to become of you now that your papa is dead?”

“Mama Rose says that…” He’s cut off by Thomasina joining them. “Thomasina!”

She smiles at him, and Jack feels a twist in his stomach. Had she ever smiled at him like that? Had anyone other than Joseph? “Come, little man. Mama Rose wants to see you.”

Isaac goes with her, not looking back at Jack. He closes his eyes and doesn’t move, counting quietly to himself until he can’t keep the numbers straight anymore. It takes far less time than it should, his mind clouded with memories. He gets to his feet without thinking and walks, disappearing from the grounds until his feet are aching and he’s standing at Joseph’s grave.

He’s not sure how long he stands there. The sun is setting, and he knows someone is likely looking for him. Possibly. David most likely met with Rose and then with Michelle. Jack’s extraneous in all of that.

He’s likely been extraneous all along.

No.

His father fell on his sword. 

Jack has no intention of doing the same.

He touches Joseph’s headstone briefly and heads back to the palace. He won’t come here again. He won’t stay in Gilboa. He’ll leave David here to rule, and he’ll return to Gath, stay there and help the integration of their two countries.

In unity there will be twelve.

If he does nothing else in this life, Jack will take the one that is Gilboa and the one that is Gath and bring them together under David. Two will become one. And one will become two.

God said there will be twelve. David will find ten more, and Jack will help bring them together..

**Author's Note:**

> Silas commits suicide "on screen" by slitting his throat. It is not particularly graphic, more mentioned, and is viewed through a television.


End file.
